


Bang Bang, Kiss Kiss

by Pimento



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Flirts, Fluff, Humor, Jealous Sam, Jealous Sam Winchester, M/M, PWP without Porn, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 02:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5690401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/pseuds/Pimento
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: Bang Bang, Kiss Kiss </p><p>Summary: Sam is jealous, Dean is Dean.</p><p>Set back in the early days...</p><p>"...he could swear that Dean knew it as well.  There was something about the look he gave him over his beer as he swigged from a bottle, or put his wallet away.  The green eyes, dark and lively with amusement.  It was almost flirtatious."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bang Bang, Kiss Kiss

Dean smirked at Sam. The waitress winked at him, scribbling her number on a corner of the bill before handing him the receipt and change.

Sam glared at them both, feeling the familiar sense of jealousy and arousal. Zelophilia, he’d looked it up when he and Jess had first discovered what was happening between them, it had added spice to their lovemaking. He winced at the painful memory. Now for some reason, it was jealousy of Dean and his abilities to make most females go weak at the knees. Handing over their telephone numbers to him after the briefest of conversations and a few winning smiles. It wasn’t like he was even interested in such conquests. The whole thing was a pain in the ass, he’d lost count of the times he’d retreated to the squalid privacy of a cubicle in some grotty bar or diner to jerk off.

Sometimes, he could swear that Dean knew it as well. There was something about the look he gave him over his beer as he swigged from a bottle, or put his wallet away. The green eyes, dark and lively with amusement. It was almost flirtatious.

“Ready?” Dean’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Sammy come on, time to go.” He paused looking thoughtfully at Sam’s frowning face. “If it bothers you that much little bro’, I could ask her to bring a friend.”

Sam stomped away muttering something about the bathroom, as Dean laughed at him.

*********************************************************************

Dean opened the door to the room as gently as he could, the cool grey light of dawn silhouetted him briefly, boots in hand as he crept over the threshold. Sam opened his eyes briefly, then closed them again, in phoney slumber.

Dean drunkenly removed his socks and jeans, falling across the bed. Almost immediately starting to snore.

Sam lay still, grinding his teeth, feeling his face burning with shame as his erection grew inside his shorts. He looked up and realised that the door was ajar. Climbing out of bed he stomped across the room, noisily slamming the door. Dean snorted and lifted his head, eyes bleary. “Wassat? What time is it?”

“You should know,” Sam snapped, eyes blazing, “you just came in.”

“Shit Sammy, when did you become my keeper?” Dean’s voice was slurred as he looked over his shoulder.

Sam’s mouth drew into a tight line, the angle of his chin forming a stubborn little wedge. He was so agitated he could barely speak, forcing his words out between clenched teeth. “All that crap you gave me about staying sharp, needing to get some sleep, protecting your back…” he ranted on, as Dean groaned and pulled the pillow over his head, covering his ears. His T-shirt riding up to expose his back, long legs sprawled across the blankets, where he lay face down.

Sam seethed and stomped back towards his bed, tangling with Dean’s discarded boots en route. He seized his own foot, rubbing at his stubbed toes, and then picking up the boots, he threw the first one with all his might at Dean, catching him squarely in the ribs. Dean grunted in pain and sat up suddenly, just as Sam, aiming for the wall above his head released the second boot. The thud as it hit the side of his head, and the look of surprise on his face would have been comical, if it were not for the sickening crack as his neck whipped sideways. 

He slumped back on to the bed and Sam froze for a few seconds, open-mouthed before the enormity of what he had just done sank in and he rushed to the bed. He squatted on the floor, hand stroking Dean’s cheek and hair, reassured to see his brother breathing if unconscious. He raced into the bathroom and ran the faucet over a towel.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Dean screwed his eyes up against the pain in his head. This was some hangover. He felt the comforting cool of a towel on his forehead and muttered “Thanks Sammy,” before he remembered that this was not just a hangover.

He jerked upright throwing Sam off balance. “You fuck, you threw my boots at me. What the hell has got into you?” 

“I..I’m sorry. You just …” Sam broke off, unable to explain. Picking himself up off the floor.

“Sorry? You hit me in the head with my own fucking boot.” Dean’s voice was incredulous. “Is this all because I got laid? You could lighten up and get some action of your own. Mind you,” he said, losing his train of thought in the memory of Lizzie “she was worth a kick in the head, if you catch my drift.” He smirked at the memory, starting back in confusion as Sam launched at him from the floor. He struggled as Sam pinned him to the bed with seemingly super human strength. 

Dean raised his eyebrows, “Jesus, Sammy, calm down, you’ll burst a blood vessel. I’ll give you her number, just enough …”

His words were lost, as Sam’s face loomed large towards him he screwed his eyes shut, expecting a headbutt. His reactions dulled by alcohol and lack of sleep. Only to gasp as Sam’s soft dry lips closed over his own in a long tender kiss. His eyes flew open in surprise and his muffled protest was lost behind Sam’s tongue which was filling his mouth.

The surprise at the guilty pleasure of it and the shock of feeling the bulge in Sam’s shorts widened his eyes further and he squirmed under Sam’s hold, not sure whether he wanted this to stop or not. Then abruptly Sam pulled away and ran into the bathroom, locking the door. 

Dean stood up on shaky legs, staggering slightly he banged on the door. “Sam,” he could hear Sam sobbing on the other side of the door. “Sammy, it’s OK, I understand you miss Jess. Jesus, Sam, would you open the fucking door, I am not doing some weird chick flick conversation through a closed door.” 

He turned and slid down the door, overtaken by a sudden dizzy spell. He fell backwards onto the floor, giggling uncontrollably as Sam opened the door, the mixture of alcohol and concussion was a heady combination and he passed out on the bathroom floor.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Dean lifted his pounding head from the pillow and stared at his wrist watch, it was gone past twelve. He groaned passing a shaky hand over his face and staggered into the bathroom. He knocked back a couple of Advil and ran some water into the basin, as he heard Sam coming back into the room.

Sam listened to the splashing in the bathroom and said as lightly as he could, “I brought you some coffee and a bagel…”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Dean called. “Man, that chick was wild, you should see the bruises on my ribs.” He appeared in the doorway, white towel draped around his shoulders. “Shit, Sam, I don’t know what they put in the local firewater, but I had some crazy ass dreams last night.” Sam bit his lip, relieved that the awkward explanations he had been practising all morning would probably not be needed. 

“Really,” he said innocently, sipping at his own coffee, flicking a glance at Dean from under his hair, “anything I should know about?”


End file.
